[Illustration]

In some cases these Paris drawings, many of which are reproduced in the present volume, are literal portraits from life.  But for the most part they are the result of that close and absorbent observation which has been mentioned as characteristic of the artist’s method.  The “Pictures of Paris” were no hurried impressions received during a flying visit, but the outcome of a long stay in the French capital, which gave opportunities for a close study of manners, and a sympathetic insight into men.  Accompanied by two brother artists, Reynolds, commissioned by his editor to depict Paris, betook himself thither, and established himself for a considerable period in a studio, whence he could watch and record.  Under the guidance of Mr. John N. Raphael, well known amongst Paris correspondents, who contributed the clever literary sketches which the drawings by Reynolds nominally illustrated, explorations were made not only to those familiar haunts of which the names are known to the veriest tripper, but into the heart of that Paris which is terra incognita to the casual stranger.

[Illustration:  FRIVOLITY. Time Sketch:  London Sketch Club.]

Thus we have in these drawings a true Paris and the true Parisian—­not the traditional caricature which, though founded possibly on fundamental facts, has been so elaborated as to bear no more resemblance to the real thing than the libellous figure with lantern jaws, protruding front teeth, and side whiskers, generally beloved of the French artist, bears to the typical Englishman.  Take, for example, the drawing of French workpeople at dinner (page 8), made from a sketch in a Belleville cafe.  There is no exaggeration here, but a literal transcript from life, which reveals, as it were, in one flash, a whole epitome of town life in working France.

[Illustration]

Consider again his drawings of Parisian types.  No portrait could more nicely hit off the characteristic slouch of the piou-piou (as Tommy Atkins is called in France), nor catch with more delicate charm the personality of the French grisette of a certain type, than the pencil drawing “Vive l’Armee” (page 49).  Not less clever are the pen-and-ink sketches of familiar types which surround the larger figures on this last-named page—­like them, the result of humorous observation of many individuals.  Reynolds tells quaint stories of his adventures with the sketch-book in the pages of which are to be found the hurried notes—­often but a few strokes and scratches intended to serve as a mnemonic—­upon which his finished drawings and sketches were based.  Frequently he would stalk an imposing Sergent de Ville, or Cuirassier with resplendent helmet and flowing horse-hair plume, for miles along the boulevards, making furtive notes, when opportunities presented themselves and conditions were favourable, of the details of epaulettes, buttons, cuffs, and all the other paraphernalia.  In the same way his many sketches of the Paris cocher necessitated frequent drives in an open carriage, during which careful studies could be made of the ample back of the typical French cabman, and of the flowing folds of his usually voluminous neck.